


Blame it on the Booze

by Catz95



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Awkward Flirting, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, RPF, Romance, dealor - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 16:02:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21304757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catz95/pseuds/Catz95
Summary: After a long practice session, Roger convinces John to go to the bar.
Relationships: John Deacon/Roger Taylor
Comments: 7
Kudos: 47





	Blame it on the Booze

Being in a rock band was nothing new for Roger Taylor. At the age of twenty five he could proudly say he had been in three bands already and he loved it. The lights, the crowds, the girls (especially the girls); He was made for it. He became alive when he stepped out on the stage.

John on the other hand…

John joined their band a few years ago. He still shook at the sound of the demanding crowd and his eyes would become too large for his face. It would take gentle coaxing by Freddie to even get him to consider going out to play half the time.

Roger really could not relate to that sort of anxiety. 

The four members of Queen had just spent hours practicing for a show they had coming up soon. Roger, sweaty and exhausted, wished Freddie and Brian good night as they left. Both the singer and the guitarist looked as knackered as Roger felt. 

Roger claimed he wanted to stay behind and try to work on the drum line for their song, ‘Ogre Battle’. He and Brian had spent the past hour arguing over Roger’s timing. Rather than shove his drum sticks up Brian’s ass, Roger conceded and said that _fine_, he’d practice it _again_. He bloody well knew he wasn’t going to but Brian didn’t need to know that.

Roger leaned back on his drummer’s throne. He stretched his arms while staring off into space. He really wasn’t in the mood to go home anyway, the night was too young.

Someone walked into the room and the sound of their foot steps brought Roger back out of his thoughts. Roger rose his eyebrows and smiled when he saw it was John. “Oh hey, didn’t know you were still here.”

A small smile was returned but John still looked tired and a little upset. While they were playing earlier a string had snapped on his bass. That was what made Freddie finally say they had practiced enough for one night.

“We didn’t have any stupid strings the right gauge, so this’ll have to do for now,” John held a replacement string in his hand. 

Roger watched John sit down and begin winding the broken string still attached to his bass guitar in silence. After some time, Roger pulled a pack of Marlboros out of his back pocket. He offered the pack to John first, who politely declined. 

Roger put a cigarette in between his lips and chased the tip with a lit match. “You’re just delaying the inevitable you know.”

“Brian doesn’t smoke.”

“Well yeah, because it’s _Brian_,” Roger rolled his eyes and got up to lean against the wall near John. He blew smoke in the air. “What’re you doing after this anyway?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it,” John replied as his fingers worked the peg on the guitar’s head stock. He still had chipped black nail polish on from the week before when Freddie had basically pinned him down to paint it on. “Freddie and Brian went straight home so I suppose the bar is out.”

“Aw come on,” Roger leaned towards John and blew smoke towards his face, making the Bassist gag. John glared at Roger as he continued to speak.

“We don’t need those two. Why don’t we just go? We can get loaded, pick up a couple of chicks, you know...”

“You mean that you can pick up a couple of chicks,” John replied. “I happen to have morals.”

“Okay so you can at least approve of the chicks,” Roger tapped his cigarette against the ash tray on the desk John was working at. “Come on, a couple drinks, you and me. We never get to do anything together.”

John glanced at the watch on his wrist and sighed. “Fine, you tosser.”

“A proud tosser thank you very much,” A large grin took over Roger’s face.

= = =

Once John had finished putting the new string onto his Bass the two men left the studio in search of a bar. 

“Do you really need to wear your sunglasses this late?” John asked, looking at Roger incredulously.

Roger swept past him and declared, “They’re a magnet for the ladies, they’re essential.”

“Whatever you say, Rog.”

Roger stopped walking in front of a bar they didn’t frequent and looked back at John. 

“This’ll do, eh?”

Roger adjusted his hat over his blond locks and took a deep breath as he prepared to woo whatever catch he could find. John wondered to himself if this had been a good idea, seeing as he was probably going to be ditched in about twenty minutes.

However, after some time had passed, John hadn’t been abandoned yet. Roger had ordered a couple beers and shoved one into John’s hand when they first arrived. They took a seat towards the back of the room. (‘To get a better look at who comes in’ Roger had said). 

An old TV set rumbled as some sort of sport was being broadcast. Three men with beer bellies were playing pool on the other side of the room and a handful of men who looked as though they just got off work sat around the bar, surrounded in a cloud of smoke.

After about a half hour had passed, Roger decided to get something a bit heavier from the bar and he said to the bartender: “Oi, when do birds end up in here mate?”

The older gentleman behind the bar handed Roger two vodka and sodas, with his eyebrows raised. “Oh there wouldn’t be any tonight, its Tuesday.” 

Roger looked at him as if he was insulted. The bar keep quickly added, “We’re near an oil rig site, during the week the women know to stay away because the men are usually here looking for tail.”

Roger opened his mouth to say something but then just huffed, handed money over and grabbed the two drinks to bring back to the table.

“Did you hear ‘em?” Roger said. “What a waste of a night.”

John shrugged his shoulders, and accepted the drink from Roger. He knew he was getting comfortably buzzed now, so he would have to say he was enjoying his night just fine, thank you very much. 

“S’uppose the ladies aren’t just staying away from the oil field workers.” John teased. “They heard that Roger fellow was coming and ran to the hills.”

Roger, who had been fiddling with his sunglasses stopped. Glaring at John, he downed half his drink in one go. He slammed the glass down and looked away, crossing his arms.

“Hey now...” John lowered his voice. “Look… I’m sorry, I was just teasing you.”

John’s fingers reached across the table and he grazed them gently over the back of Roger’s forearm to get Roger to look back at him.

Roger’s dark blue eyes were beginning to cloud from the drink. He snorted and pulled out his cigarettes again. 

“Yeah, I know. I’m just frustrated.” Roger placed a cigarette in his mouth and smacked the cigarette pack against his palm to resettle the other ones inside it once the pack was closed.

= = =

They weren’t at the bar much longer. After a couple straight shots they were both pretty toasty. Roger pulled on his jacket, signaling he was ready to go, and finally his blasted sunglasses had been put away in his jacket’s pocket. 

“Staying with me tonight?” John asked as he shoved his hands into his pockets of his own jacket after holding the door open for Roger to leave through. 

“S’uppose so,” Roger said, a pout on his face. “I can’t believe not one girl came to the bar tonight. I’m so horny.”

John shook his head. “I forgot that your filter melts away when you’re getting a little more than just tipsy.”

“I’m not tipsy.” Roger replied. He made it a few more feet before he staggered a bit. “M’kay maybe I’m a little tipsy.”

John laughed softly and nodded to the alley way a bit ahead of them. “We can take a pit stop over there.”

The weather was quite nice for a May night. The breeze was a bit cold but the sky was clear. It was a new moon and a spray of stars stretched across the sky. John shivered a bit as he leaned against the brick wall on one side of the alley. He and Roger were quite alone.

Roger struggled to pull his cigarettes back out of his jacket pocket. Once he had one lit he began pacing back and forth in an attempt to sober up enough to walk to the bus station.

After a few moments of comfortable silence Roger side glanced at John, a frown on his face. “Did I tell you another bloke came up to me yesterday and told me he thought I was a girl?”

It took a lot for John to not laugh. He and his other band mates were well aware how much of a sore spot that comment would have been for Roger. Roger wasn’t short but he was thin for a drummer and he didn’t exactly scream macho man.

“It’s not your fault you have prettier hair than any girl that he probably ever shagged,” John offered.

Roger’s face screwed up in what looked like he was stuck between breaking into a grin and sobbing. 

“Nobody ever makes comments like that about you though.”

“S’uppose they don’t.”

Silence fell between them again and Roger leaned against the wall next to John, inhaling smoke then blowing it up into the sky. He was close enough that John could smell the beer Roger had spilled on himself earlier mixed with sweat. 

“I don’t get it,” Roger said after some time passed. “Your hair is prettier than mine, and your ass too.”

“Um, I’m glad you noticed, I guess.”

Roger turned to look over John’s face. “No I’m serious, you’d think you’d be told you look more like a girl than I do.”

John stared at him unsure of how to make of that comment, but suddenly his heart was beating faster in a way he wasn’t expecting. He supposed it was just the alcohol making him anxious. “Was that supposed to be a compliment?” John swallowed.

“S’uppose it was.” 

“You’re real funny, Roger.”

Roger was now staring at him so intently that true panic did start to course through John. What was Roger trying to get at? John didn’t have a low opinion of himself but he would never say he was the looker of their band. Freddie and Roger had that covered. 

Roger was now looking at John as if he’d never seen the bassist properly before.

After what seemed like an eternity, Roger tossed his half finished cigarette over his shoulder and moved quickly to pin a surprised John between himself and the wall. Roger’s warm, calloused, hand came to rest on John’s lower back under his jacket and shirt. It was a move John had seen Roger employ on girls countless of times. Roger’s nose was touching John’s and the cigarette smoke still lingered on his lips.

“Roger...” John said weakly.

“Deaky...” A sweet giggle fell out of Roger’s mouth as he copied John’s tone of voice, but as suddenly as it had come Roger became silent again

John would not be able say why he didn’t protest or pull away, he liked to think he would have normally. But the combination of the alcohol and the sudden, soft touch made his nerves feel on fire. 

Time had stopped for them, except for the strong feeling of John’s heart beating out of his chest, his fingers threading through Roger’s hair and Roger rubbing John’s lower back gently. 

Who had gotten the bravery to close the gap, neither of them knew. It was a hesitant kiss at first, like one that would take place on a first date, all lips and not much else. Roger pulled away looking as though he couldn’t believe what they had just done, but then he found his nerve again. His lips crushed against John’s in a deep sloppy kiss.

John’s tongue darted out to meet Roger’s and a natural pace established. Roger’s pelvis ground against John and he could feel that Roger hadn’t been joking earlier when he had said he was horny. John’s grip tightened in Roger’s hair and he felt his body involuntarily jerk against Roger in response.

Roger hadn’t expected that. He pulled away again with his eyes wide and his pupils blown. A soft “Oh” escaped his lips before he went back for more.

John brought his unoccupied hand to Roger’s hip and squeezed it, the denim of Roger’s pants biting into his fingers. A low moan came from Roger into John’s mouth and a blush spread across John’s cheeks. 

When they finally broke apart for air, they were panting. Roger was trembling.

Roger then went for John’s neck, planting soft kisses down it, and nipping gently.

John had to bite back a moan. He tried to disguise it as a sigh but he didn’t think Roger had bought that by the way his fingers began to dig into John’s lower back.

“Roger...” John managed to squeak out. “We can’t.”

John didn’t really know what he meant by his statement. They couldn’t because what? Because they were out in the open? Cuz they were two drunk blokes who happened to be best friends?

In the end it didn’t matter though because Roger pulled away entirely at that point. The action wasn’t malicious but John did feel the energy change back to what it was before the moment prior, almost as if a switch had been flipped.

Roger uneasily looked both ways up and down the alley way. Satisfied they had not been seen, he wiped at his lips with the back of his hand and looked over at John anxiously. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” John smiled gently. “Why don’t we go home now? I’ll put the kettle on and we can have a cuppa.”

Relief and gratefulness spread over Roger’s features. They turned and walked towards the road, and went on to talk as though nothing had happened as they headed towards the bus station. 

As they walked, John brushed against Roger purposefully and their hands met briefly. Once they crossed the road, Roger hooked his pinkie around John’s and they stayed that way the rest of the journey home.

**Author's Note:**

> In lieu of trying to write a novel this month, I've decided to try to write as much fan fiction as I can for NaNoWriMo 2019 :)
> 
> The prompt for this one was Heartbeat. 
> 
> A random Queen fact, from my google research, John didn't begin heavily smoking until the making of the album 'The Works'. And even then he didn't have a cigarette brand he preferred, he would just bum them off of Roger and Freddie. Brian chose not to smoke because he had a loved one die of lung cancer.


End file.
